


They Walk in Shadow

by sidebyside_archivist



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Bonding, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-01
Updated: 2005-10-01
Packaged: 2020-06-26 09:09:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19765054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidebyside_archivist/pseuds/sidebyside_archivist
Summary: Kirk and Spock are dealing with some real-life, everyday irritations. Their unique personalities help them deal with, for example, a smarmy bureaucrat ...





	They Walk in Shadow

**Author's Note:**

> Note from LadyKardasi and Sahviere, the archivists: this story was originally archived at [Side by Side](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Side_by_Side_\(Star_Trek:_TOS_zine\)) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. We tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Side by Side’s collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sidebyside/profile).

"Captain." Uhura's voice cut through the crowd in the hallway outside the officers' mess. He turned around and she approached him to a discreet distance. "Captain, Starfleet's demanding an answer to their query about the special research team."

Kirk scowled. "I thought I told them: no way."

"I sent a politely-worded refusal, but they don't seem to have listened. They're threatening to order us to base if you don't comply."

Kirk laid a hand on her shoulder and pulled her aside. His expression was grim.

"I know how you feel about this, Captain," she whispered sympathetically.

"Commander . . . who signed the request?"

"Admiral Morrow at Starfleet Command."

Kirk bit his lip. "All right. I'll need some time to compose a response. Tell Morrow that we acknowledge receipt."

"Aye, sir."

***

"Spock, we have a problem." Kirk handed him a packet of orders with the Starfleet seal on the cover sheet. "We are to pick up the special commissioner and his two aides at Starbase 17 in two days. The commissioner is going to study our command procedures." Kirk began to pace about the cabin in nervous agitation. "Just what I need--civilians on the bridge interfering, questioning my orders . . . pestering me night and day."

Spock looked up thoughtfully. "If my memory does not fail me, this is hardly out of line with what Starfleet has demanded in the past."

"I didn't like it then, either!" Kirk exploded. "Remember Murasaki 312?"

"Yes, I remember," Spock said calmly. "You have endured both trainees and civilian liaisons before."

"Starfleet command has never been happy about having two ranking captains on the same ship. When they gave me command of this vessel they tried to knock you down in rank. I refused. I told them that you had completely recovered and weren't--culpable for my actions. It's been two years. . . I'd hoped . . . that was the end of it."

"Have you considered the possibility that Starfleet's motives are precisely as stated? Co-captains are not unusual in the Vulcan science fleet. I noticed that one of Commissioner Hecht's aides is Vulcan."

Kirk looked at Spock strangely, thinking. "We . . . aren't co-captains, Mr. Spock."

"No, but you have allowed me considerably more discretion as executive officer than is typical in the Fleet," Spock asserted.

"The crew knows you. They trust you. I trust you." Kirk reached out with a clumsy hand for Spock's upper arm. The crimson fabric slid with firm friction beneath his thumb. "Ask yourself: why are they so interested in our command relationship in particular?" He squeezed and released the arm beneath his fingers. "We haven't had any secrets since you came back from Genesis. Everyone knows. Some . . . people don't like it. I can't help but think we're being harassed." Kirk couldn't help but remember the change of personal bias in allowing Spock to return to full duty barely months after his 'rebirth'. Kirk's eyes touched Spock's, looking for sympathy.

Spock's eyes were drawn in curious and intense attention. Every line of his body communicated a power held carefully in check. "Your grasp of Starfleet politics is more thorough than my own," Spock conceded carefully.

"Aren't we allowed even a measure of privacy?" Kirk pleaded. "After all these years?"

"Jim," Spock said. "They will not invade our privacy." Something about Spock's demeanor was assertive, definite.

Something in Kirk melted a bit at that. His face relaxed into a lopsided smile. Every day of Spock's continued existence was a dear gift. "No, we won't let them," Kirk promised softly. He let his hands find their way to Spock's sides, let them run over the cloth that separated them. Propriety and formality kept the two men standing erect and always slightly apart, no matter how badly Kirk wanted to push up against him, to take him, friend and mate, and demand everything he wanted out of him immediately. Instead he smiled reassuringly and let go, though his fingers soon found their way to Spock's forearm. He needed Spock's stability, his steadfast devotion and calm faith--he needed to touch it. The Vulcan, as always, wordlessly allowed it.

They both felt a momentary surge in their bond, a pressing against the mental shields they constructed around their minds while either of them were on duty, and they felt it warmly die away. Kirk smiled again. "Parted from me and never parted," he said gently. "I suppose they'll want to know how a captain and first officer function with a telepathic bond."

"With considerable restraint," Spock said dryly. "If you will excuse me, Captain, I should return to the bridge."

"Of course, Mr. Spock. I trust I'll . . . see you around?"

Spock paused before the door. For a moment he allowed the love he felt for his spouse to show in his eyes. Then he was all business. "I believe our interests would be best served by formulating a plan of action prior to advent of the research team--since we cannot prevent their arrival."

"My thoughts exactly." Kirk pulled the chair out from under his desk and sat down. He began fishing about his pockets for his reading glasses before noting them on the desk. He picked them up, unfolded them, and noticed Spock's raised eyebrow. "Dismissed, Spock," the captain ordered with a grin, and put the glasses on.

***

Kirk twirled in the shower, shampooing his scalp vigorously as he hummed a popular ditty. Almost absentmindedly, he rubbed some of the foam over the clump of Vulcan semen on his belly. "I never met a man I couldn't put in a fix," he sang cheerfully and tunelessly. He kept humming as he rinsed out his hair, shut off the water flow, and rubbed his skin with cleanser gel. He lovingly stroked each crease and fold of his body. Lather dripped down his legs. He knocked the water back on, and sang the chorus as the shower water cascaded over his body.

He emerged from the shower a minute later, wearing nothing but a towel. His bondmate looked up from the computer and rose to greet him. He was still wearing his uniform.

"Hi, Spock." Kirk kissed him on the lips. "Ready for round two?"

"Indeed." Spock undid the shoulder seal and began to shrug out of his crimson uniform jacket.

"You're really sexy when you strip," Kirk confided in a whisper. Spock raised an eyebrow at the typically illogical human comment. Kirk led him to the bed.

Kirk eagerly lay down, spreading his limbs for Spock's inspection. Spock clambered atop him, still mostly-dressed. Kirk's impatient hand went immediately to Spock's crotch.

"Later, Jim," Spock said. He took the offending hand in his own and rubbed it gently. "At any rate, you have already had me that way once tonight; twice would be . . . immoderate."

Kirk smiled his lazy-cat grin. "Why don't you take your clothes off and get comfortable, Captain?"

Spock raised an eyebrow at the mention of his rank. "So impatient?" he teased. "I believe it was you who requested that we 'take our time'."

"I meant for it to last, not be interminable! At this rate the Earth will fall into the sun before--"

"Jim." Spock silenced Kirk with a finger on his lips. He slowly moved the finger until the tip, right where the telepathic receptor lay below the skin, was touching Kirk's lower lips. He slowly traced Kirk's upper and lower lips. Kirk took deep breaths and closed his eyes.

Spock continued to trace a path over Kirk's face, drawing lines toward the meld points, lingering especially on the temple. His shields were down and he could feel Kirk reaching for him, but he did not give in to the impulse to join--not yet. He drew his hand away and Kirk bucked his hips sharply.

"How can you be so eager so soon after one orgasm?" Spock said. "Your behavior is not in concordance with the scientific literature."

"S-Spoock," Kirk groaned, knowing he was being teased, "fuck the scientific literature."

"Certainly not, Jim."

"'D'like to see you try," Kirk mumbled.

"What purpose would that serve?"

"Take off your clothes!" Kirk bellowed, and Spock hastened to comply.

"There, that's better," Kirk said when Spock at last lay down naked beside him. Spock drew close so that their bodies were touching, legs and ankles intertwined, and he ran the length of Kirk's torso with his free hand. He took note of his mate's insistent arousal. "If the meld is to be satisfying, you must hold back."

Kirk basked in Spock's firm practicality. "Why don't you just make me come now, and I'll come again when you do."

Spock was skeptical. "Three in one night would be quite unusual for you."

"I'm really turned on. Besides, even if I don't come again, I'll enjoy it."

"Very well." It was clear that Spock didn't entirely like the idea, but he yielded to Kirk anyway.

The usual amount of sucking and touching didn't bring Kirk any closer to orgasm, however, even though he felt like he was going to come any second. So they both decided that Jim's dick was going to do whatever it damn well pleased and they melded anyway.

Melding for sexual purpose was an incomparable delight. To be joined physically, emotionally, and intellectually was such joy. Kirk loved to experience the power and incredible extent of Spock's intellect; how extraordinarily well-constructed, this universe in his mind. To Spock, Kirk's mind was a refuge; his thoughts a balm for his scars and rough places; his physicality a comfort. As they glided through the recesses of each other's minds and touched each other's hot arousal, they focused on one thought: security. The security within their bond would get them through the next two weeks. Even if they were forced not to look or touch or even brush minds in all that time. The security of their love made Spock languid and made Kirk tingle with uncontainable arousal.

Spock broke the meld, kissed his bondmate. "Do you wish to be melded when we come?"

Kirk looked at Spock as if he would never tire of the sight. "Do you even have to ask?"

Spock smiled and kissed him again, running his hands along the sides of Kirk's face. His penis throbbed against Kirk's thigh. He touched Kirk's face very gently and said, "I wish to penetrate you."

Kirk squirmed with anticipation, and he rolled onto his stomach as soon as Spock let him up. Spock and Kirk arranged the bedding so that they would be more comfortable, and found the lube under the pillow. Spock lowered himself over his t'hy'la's body. Kirk turned his head so he could see Spock's hand to one side of him. "Mmm, that feels nice, stranger," Kirk said as Spock shifted against him.

"To call me a stranger is most illogical."

"You weren't touching me for a minute there."

"Ah. Then every sexual encounter is a one-night stand."

Kirk grinned. "Where do you think I got my reputation?"

"Do you want the truth?" Spock demanded.

Kirk wiggled his hips beneath Spock's weight. "Ooo, do I want to know?"

"Unknown." Spock nipped Kirk's earlobe.

"Mmmm," Kirk hummed. "Tell me."

"Your propensity to flirt with everything that moves."

"Oh really? That's where I get my reputation?" Kirk jerked his hips against the bed. "You're just jealous, 'cause all that Vulcan training makes you uptight."

"I see . . ."

"Now fuck me already, Spock."

"Jim." Spock gently pushed Kirk's raised head back into the pillow, not even bothering to point out Kirk's illogic to him this time. He slid down Kirk's spine, massaging the muscles and caressing the flesh with his fingers and lips as he went.

He reached the cheeks and parted the soft and pliant flesh. The quivering, pink, clean-scrubbed entrance to Kirk's body was opened before him. Spock logically considered the anus an exit rather than entrance, but for him it would be both entrance and exit.

Spock licked, sucked, and nipped at the delicate folds of flesh while his bondmate made pleased murmurs into the pillow. With the long practice of their union, Kirk's anus opened wide for him, and Spock inserted a spit-slickened finger. Kirk moaned at the sensation.

Spock withdrew his finger and applied pressure with his thumbs against Kirk's lower back, causing the human to groan in satisfaction and relax further. Spock then inserted his tongue in Kirk's anus, and formed a wet seal with his lips. Spock inhaled the musky scent of Jim with his tongue pressed against the super-soft, gently yielding surface of Kirk's interior.

"Please, Spock," Kirk murmured. Spock closed his eyes in satisfaction, cheek pressed against cheek, for his arousal had become just as insistent.

"Yes, Jim," Spock said, moving into position. Kirk snuggled into the bedclothes, pleased to be getting his wish. Pleased that Spock knew what he wanted, and would give it to him without any further prompting. Any single man who scoffed at the joys of married life was a fool.

Spock slicked the lube, which had been warming in Kirk's hand, over every square centimeter of his penis, and let the excess drip into the cleft of his mate's buttocks. He eased his knees and thighs into position and mounted him. Kirk let out a breath and gripped the bedsheets. Spock eased in and out as if testing the waters. Apparently satisfied, he reached for Kirk's head and joined their minds. Bracing himself with his other arm, he started to fuck.

Kirk's nerves were electrified by the sensation of giving and receiving pleasure. No matter how many times they did it, sex with Spock was special, and it never got old. Time and practice made their joinings sweeter. The shared experience of rising arousal, of stimulating and stiffening, of pleasure and release, was surely greater than the sum of its parts.

Kirk spread his thighs for Spock to seek his quietus inside him. Each stroke brought him closer to the delicious, buzzing edge. He showed Spock his mixed sensation of looseness and tension that he only felt when being fucked and Spock showed him his thoughts and his pleasure. Spock's fantasy--to own him completely. Spock increased the scope of the mental joining when he was close to orgasm. The bond glowed magnesium-white, vibrating like a high-tension wire ionized in an electrical storm. They dissolved in a while haze, which dimmed to a quiet gray.

After many labored breaths Spock laid his arms over Kirk's and curled his fingers around Kirk's opened fists. Kirk wriggled and sighed beneath the warm weight of his bondmate.

They dozed a long time.

"I'm glad you're here," Kirk said.

Spock squeezed his hands.

"That was very good."

"Indeed," Spock said. He rubbed his index and middle fingers against Kirk's, the Vulcan equivalent of a kiss. "But Jim," he cautioned, "will it last us two weeks?"

Kirk smiled, feeling the satisfaction of one who is completely spent. "If not, Plan B. I'll miss the melds."

"Our ability to meld will depend on the telepathic sensitivity and inquisitive propensities of this Vulcan in the commissioner's entourage. In all likelihood, we are entertaining a worst-case scenario." Underlying Spock's words was the sentiment: I'll protect you!

"Better safe than sorry."

"Suppose the commissioner brings a Betazoid in his party?"

Kirk groaned. "In that case, hypnotize me. Any time I even begin to think of sex, I'll visualize chocolate cake instead. Might gain some weight, but it'll be worth it."

"You place too much faith in my abilities. However, the desire for nourishment is so primal that it might work."

"Mm. Kiss me again."

Their fingers intertwined and curled tight.

"Spock?" Kirk said after a time.

Spock acknowledged him by kissing him on the back of the neck in the human fashion.

"I'm hungry."

***

An honor guard consisting of Kirk, Spock, Scott, Chekov, and Lt. Johnson stood at attention in Transporter Room 2.

The order was given by the executive officer: "Mr. Scott, energize."

Three forms materialized on the platform.

Kirk stepped forward. "Commissioner Hecht, I presume? I'm Captain James T. Kirk. Welcome to the Starship Enterprise."

The leader stepped down. "Commissioner Theodore Hecht, and these are my aides, or shall I say, fellow researchers, Sirres," the Vulcan who stood to his left, "and Lydia Bonuato." Hecht extended his hand.

Kirk froze. Hecht! Back at the academy he'd only known him as "Mackie", not Theodore, or by his drag name, "Mixchelle". _Goddess of Mercy, he'd better have grown up since then!_

Spock, noticing the awkward pause, looked over and forcefully restrained himself from prompting Kirk as he would have a bewildered ensign.

As suddenly as he had stopped, Kirk caught his own hesitation. He flashed a brilliant smile, pumped Hecht's hand vigorously, said all the right things, and invited the party on a tour of the Enterprise. If "Mackie" recognized Kirk, he gave no signal of it.

If McCoy had been there, Kirk supposed later, he would have pulled him aside at the first opportunity and asked "What the hell was that all about?" Fortunately, he had been safely ensconced in Sickbay. Ordinarily Kirk would have invited McCoy for that first contact for the benefit of his keen insight, but with the unknown factor of a telepath in the mix, Kirk decided it was best to surround himself with officers who knew nothing and could therefore give nothing away.

Spock had launched into an involved discussion with said telepath as they toured the ship, attempting to extract as much information from him as possible, delving not only into the methods and scope of the current research project, but also his personal background and motivations.

When the tour and introductions were complete the team was shown their offices and quarters, where they were expected to occupy themselves for the few hours until the formal dinner with the Enterprise officers that night. Spock nodded to Kirk and told him what he had learned.

"He is merely a social researcher. The only unusual aspect of his education is an Associate's Degree in human psychology conferred by an Earth university. He has no special sensitivity as a telepath and I do not believe he will pay us any mind--as long as we're discreet."

Kirk nodded. Chekov had been chatting up the female researcher. Kirk saw that he was still in the hallway, speaking to Scott. Kirk beckoned for him to come over.

"Keptin, you vant to know about Leedia?"

"Yes, Ms Bonuato--what did you learn?"

"She studies command structures--wery dry stuff, really. She vent on about insect colonies and Napoleon's army and 'heterogenous power structures'. I really think she should get out more, Sir."

"Thank you for that . . . colorful analysis, Mr. Chekov."

"And Sir, I only caught leetle bits of your conversation with Sirres, here and there, but he did sound extremely dry and technical, even for a Vulcan."

"Hmm."

"Mr. Chekov is essentially correct. They both appear to be career researchers, as claimed. I took the liberty of investigating their backgrounds before they arrived. They are both the authors of academic papers in the field of social science. Ms. Bonuato, in particular, has apparently been engaged in research for Starfleet for approximately seven years. She has studied communication of information up the chain of command, and discussion within the ranks . . ."

"Yes, yes. What about Hecht?"

"He appears to be a bureaucrat, albeit one with some political connections."

"I see." Kirk frowned pensively.

"If I may ask, Sir, do you know him?"

Kirk wondered at Spock's decision to pose the question in front of Chekov, but he supposed that he, like the others, could not have missed his lapse. So, for Chekov's benefit, as well as the rumor mill's, he said, "I think so, but it was a very long time ago, and he might only look like someone I used to know." He put on a disarming smile and continued. "Sometimes when you get older your mind plays tricks on you."

"I'm never growing old, Sir," declared the doughty Russian. "As they say in St. Petersburg, a brisk valk every day before dawn keeps you strong and wigorous."

"I see." Kirk smiled.

"Mr. Chekov," said Spock, after all these years incapable of not rising to the bait, "there is no dawn aboard a starship."

"Artificial dawn," Chekov said, beaming proudly and pointing at the lights above. "Almost as good as the real thing." He winked and moved off.

Kirk chuckled as he watched him go. "Spock," he said, tapping him on the arm, "let's get somewhere we can talk freely."

"Indeed," Spock agreed, and followed Kirk to their quarters.

"Well," Kirk said, beginning to pace, "this might not be as bad as I imagined. On the other hand, in six months we may have to fend off the consequences of a lot of flaky theorizing about the command structure on this ship."

"Captain, I would not categorize the commissioner's aides as 'flaky'. I would take them to be respected professionals in their field."

"Alright. But Hecht . . . You know his biography. Was he ever in Starfleet?"

"Yes, briefly. He matriculated at the academy two years before you did, and was assigned, at the age of twenty, to the Yorktown. He was discharged at the end of that tour and joined civilian life."

"How long has he been in the civil service?"

"Twenty-six Earth years."

"OK. But he was at the Academy when I was . . . and quite a bit older, too. I don't suppose your research turned up any aliases?"

"Aliases?"

"Alternate names, or nicknames. I only knew him by 'Mackie'. He got that name from 'Mack the Knife', though I never heard the story as to why. He was always skulking around during gay student gatherings. He and his best friend had drag personas and there were rumors about them. Mackie used to date girls and dump them as soon as they had sex with him. He was one of the most heinous, immature, selfish, and cruel excuses for a human being I've ever come in contact with--"

"Did you have sex with him?"

Kirk exploded. "Why the hell would I have slept with him? That self-centered, obnoxious. . . !" Kirk's features drew together in a mask of righteous anger. "Back home he's what we called the lowest of the low," Kirk said in a dangerously quiet voice. "He took advantage of people's good natures and used them. Mackie and his best friend used to pass the guys they'd seduced between them." Kirk confronted Spock, arms akimbo. "Why the hell would I have wanted to be their next victim? What would possess you to ask me a question like that? Just because I like sex doesn't mean I don't have any self-respect!"

The Vulcan, affronted by the outburst of anger directed towards him responded stiffly, "I was merely attempting to ascertain the nature of your relationship with Mr. Hecht."

"We don't have a relationship. We never did. And I find it really _offensive_ that you'd pose a question like that, after all the time you've known me."

Spock's expression was blank, as he consciously chose not to respond to Kirk's completely unnecessary outburst. "Does he know you?" he asked quietly.

Kirk ran his hand through his hair. "No. No, I don't think so. I was warned about him, more than once, but I'm sure he never heard anything about me. I mean, he favored the waifish sort, and I wasn't exactly. . . . I don't think he was ever after me. I wasn't even old enough to go to the dance clubs as a freshman, and I was too busy trying to get an edge on my classmates to care. Spock, when I was touring the sex clubs of the Bay Area it wasn't as a cadet. It was after I returned to the Academy to teach."

"At Mitchell's instigation?" Spock asked.

"No, it was not 'at Mitchell's instigation'." Kirk replied, still irritated by the earlier question. "I've never understood why you hate him so much, anyway."

"He treated you in an abusive manner. That is reason enough."

Kirk's eyes lit on Spock and slid away. He was moved by Spock's protectiveness, even as he found it irritating. He took his mate by the arm. "Look, Spock, he may not have been perfect, but he was my friend, and even though he tried to kill me, well, human emotions are complicated things."

"Jim," Spock asked gently, "what is your impression of the commissioner now?"

"Cultured. Old." Kirk smiled. "I know he's only a few years older than I am, but given the last time I saw him . . . and he has an air of dignified age," Kirk added, with perhaps more enthusiasm than he'd intended.

"You approve?"

"Well, if you can pull it off." Kirk grinned. "He has a political mind. He's dangerous, but I don't think he's against us. He seems to know of me as 'the great Captain Kirk', and spoke mostly of my effectiveness as a commander and wanting to know where I got that from." He paused to smile at Spock.

"Personal excellence," Spock teased.

Kirk smiled even more broadly. "What would I do without you?" He reached out with both arms.

"Was that all?" Spock asked, stepping towards him.

"Mnh," Kirk acknowledged from the crook of Spock's neck. "He's not sloppy. I couldn't find out from him why this investigation is being done."

Spock raised his head so they were looking at each other. "But he was not interested in me? Perhaps your fears were unfounded."

"Perhaps he's _only_ interested in you, and was just trying to divert me," Kirk muttered. He laid his head back down on Spock's shoulder. "I'm having a hard time judging him. Who he was and who he is seem so dissonant. Perhaps Bones will learn something at dinner."

"The Doctor is an excellent judge of character."

"Mm." Kirk rocked into the embrace. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. It wasn't fair."

Spock was silent for a time, tracing circles on his husband's back. "Perhaps I was . . . impertinent."

"Please don't make excuses for me. You were right--I usually don't feel that strongly about people I haven't been involved with."

Spock nearly picked Kirk up with one arm and lifted his jaw with the other hand. "Must you always take the blame?"

"Hey, I'm the boss." Kirk fastened his lips on Spock's waiting mouth. And don't forget it! he projected merrily into Spock's mind.

Jim. You are always my Captain, Spock projected back. Both captains were involved in a thorough examination of each other's labial surfaces.

Kirk sucked Spock's tongue into his mouth and laved it from all angles before releasing him at last. "I'm sorry. It feels good to make up, doesn't it?" Kirk began to lead Spock towards the bed.

"I trust you did not arrange this situation on purpose?"

"Why Mr. Spock! That would be . . . terribly devious of me." He sat on the bed with Spock and added more seriously, "I would never want to hurt you, Spock. I mean that."

"I know," Spock said just as seriously. He learned in to kiss Kirk again and maneuvered the human down until his shoulders were pressed against the horizontal plane of the bed. Spock leaned over him, clutching him possessively.

Kirk disentangled his mouth. "Are we all right?"

"I believe so, for now. Do not scream across the ship with your mind and I believe we will be fine."

"Logical," Kirk said, smiling. Spock shut him up with another kiss.

Somehow Kirk managed to roll them both over so he was on top. Spock didn't mind this; he was enjoying all the physical contact with a very shallow mind link. It was as close as he got to experiencing his partner in a human way.

"How much time do we have?"

"Two point one two hours before the dinner commences; however, I believe we should be present at least half an hour before then. You are not seriously suggesting that we engage in sexual intercourse before then, are you?"

"Spock," Kirk said, and kissed him on the cheek, "if I don't take care of this now, I won't be able to think about anything else tonight. But you're right--we don't want to be changing uniforms. So," Kirk said, sliding inelegantly down Spock's body, "we'll just make this simple." He opened Spock's pants.

The long, lazy cock curled around his hand. It was capable of a certain amount of prehensile action, so he played with it until it grew heavier and more rigid. As he worked on it, the head filled out, like a bulbous sponge. Spock moaned faintly and spread his legs.

Kirk settled in between Spock's legs and bent over for a closer look at the greening rod in his hand. He ran his tongue over the shaft and surveyed his handiwork between licks, marveling at the outer membrane stretched tight and the veins protruding near the surface. Pleased to see it stiff and hard, he pumped the big cock with a series of firm strokes. Spock groaned and thrust his pelvis forward.

"You like that, don't you, big guy?" Kirk grinned and opened all the clasps on his uniform jacket. He loved cock, loved to suck cock, and it was getting way too hot in Spock's quarters.

The hell with it. He threw his jacket off. At that point he noticed the warm burning at his crotch. Not to worry, Spock, he thought. I'm too eager myself to drag this out too long.

Kirk stroked what he could reach of Spock's inner thighs through the open uniform pants and briefs, which had been pushed aside by his prize, a tower of Eros which jutted out and away from the modest cloth. Eagerly salivating, he closed his mouth around the tip. Spock jumped at contact; Kirk put a firm hand down to gentle him. "Mmm," he hummed around the head, knowing that Spock found that vibrating sensation incomparable. Spock held himself in place, not caring to experience again the bruises and tooth marks which might result from sudden movements.

Kirk knew Spock was controlling it, knew he could barely hold himself back, and it turned him on even more. He plunged down the shaft and swallowed the glans, moving forward until he had taken it all. With a great sense of accomplishment he sucked ferociously, moving up and down that rock-hard erection until Spock's fumbling hand found his meldpoints and guided him as precisely as if Spock were sucking himself. Kirk felt a great burst of pride when the first gouts of semen came spurting into his esophagus; without thinking he swallowed every milliliter of come that issued forth.

He sucked until the penis was soft and limp, and then he took it out of his mouth and held it. If Spock's found Kirk's fixation on his external genitalium strange, he nevertheless refrained from comment. He waited, sated and at peace with the world, while Kirk crawled back on top of him and nuzzled his cheek--never once letting go of his dick.

Spock drove his thigh urgently into the hardness at Kirk's crotch. "Jim."

Kirk moaned and pushed back. He let go of Spock's dick and reached for his face with a sticky-wet hand.

Spock evaded the slimy attack and attempted to get up. Kirk stopped him. "Relax, lie back. I'll come to you."

Spock obediently laid back and allowed Kirk to straddle his face. He deftly opened Kirk's fly and pushed the fabric down. Surprised to see Kirk wearing briefs underneath, he paused with a curious look.

"I thought it would be best, considering . . ." Kirk explained lamely, "but I think they just irritate me."

Spock noted that Kirk was filling out the briefs nicely. He squeezed the human's balls through the cloth.

Kirk arched his back and squirmed in pleasure. Pleased, Spock began to massage the blatant erection which pushed out lewdly against the fabric of the briefs. He paused when he noted the formation of a wet spot. Kirk, who loved attention, was practically cooing. Spock carefully lifted the briefs off and fondled the now freely hanging pendula.

"Suck it, Spock," Kirk demanded, looking over Spock from above. "Do I have to make you?"

Spock raised an eyebrow, in clear challenge. Kirk pushed his knees back and swooped down to plant a sniping kiss on Spock's lips. Spock caught him and held him there until he had thoroughly rimmed Kirk's mouth. Kirk pulled back, sweaty and breathless, but no less determined. "I won't let you up. You'll be stuck here until you do what I ask, first officer. There really is no escape."

Spock smiled wickedly and pulled Kirk down to him again.

"Spock . . ." Kirk said, licking the sweat off his upper lip.

"You are forgetting that I have the advantage of strength--and greater control. However," Spock said in a voice much more like the normal Spock, "you are soiling your uniform and will shortly make us late." He pushed Kirk, on his knees, to the foot of the bed and stretched out prone with his head between Kirk's thighs. He abruptly sucked Kirk's cock into his mouth in a single slurp.

"Oh--My--God!" Kirk cried, and came within seconds, the sigh of Spock blowing him etched on his retinas.

"Oh my god," he said again, and slumpled forward on his arms. Spock picked himself up and met him. Spock reached around his shoulders gently and stroked his upper arm soothingly. Kirk signed and snuggled into him. Presently he shivered from the sweat evaporating off his body.

"Jim, I believe a turn in the sonic shower would be in order."

Kirk sighed and leaned heavily against him. "I have to pee," he said in a childlike voice.

It was Spock's turn to sigh. "I trust you are not a child," Spock said, picking up his mate by the shoulders. When he showed no signs of independent movement, Spock picked him up and carried him the few strides to the plumbing. Kirk pecked him on the cheek as Spock let him down. It could not be denied that Jim could be . . . sweet in this state.

Kirk managed to urinate without help, a rather astonishing feat given his current condition. Spock had still not learned to predict or control the effect, but he had observed that sex sometimes left Kirk silly and out of it and childlike. And very affectionate. Spock was certain it was hormonally related, but had never had the nerve to ask the Doctor about it directly. Unfortunately, the textual data he could find mentioned hormones but not any mechanism for manipulating them. Given that the captain would soon have to return to duty, Spock again found his ignorance on the subject distressing.

He closed their flies, adjusted their uniforms and turned on the sonics. Kirk yawned and brightened a bit. The affectionate phase had inconveniently not yet worn off, as Kirk repeatedly foiled his attempts to make him stand clear to allow the sonics to work.

When they got out, Kirk neatened the bed and they both lay back down on top of it.

"Jim, you seem quite drowsy."

"I'll have a cup of coffee before we go down. Tell me your theories about what's going on."

"Chronic caffeine consumption is not conducive to your long-term health."

"I'm too old to run laps to wake up anymore." He snuggled with determination into Spock's shoulder.

"No, you're too out of shape."

"I thought you liked me like this."

"I like you any way. I prefer you alive and healthy."

"If I ran laps I'd have no energy left for sex."

"I very much doubt that."

"I can't leave an opening to one of your little girlfriends--I mean protegées," he said, grinning wickedly.

"Do not be ridiculous, Jim."

"Oh, it's really quite logical, to have a replacement handy in case I croak."

"Jim, as you well know, I intend to retire from Starfleet when you do. Has it ever occurred to you that we must train the next generation of Starfleet officers to replace us?"

"I know. I just think it's amusing that they all have crushes on you, even the Vulcans. No--especially the Vulcans." Kirk chuckled.

"You imagine things."

"Except Saavik." Kirk rolled on his side towards Spock. Kirk opened his mouth, then shut it. "She's going to make a fine officer some day," Kirk said, consciously pulling away from anything else he might have wanted to say.

"What do you mean by that, Jim?"

"She wanted my job, Spock, my god . . . she went after me like a heat-seeking missile. You raised a shark."

Fatherly pride suffused Spock's eyes. "Her personality was well-formed before I met her. She did share many of your qualities. I believe you both recognized that."

"Hm." Kirk rolled back onto his back. "You know what's also funny?" he asked conspiratorially. "Your little students are all girls."

"You would prefer to contemplate imaginary male rivals?"

Kirk laughed. "Come on, Spock, do you have a 'males need not apply' sign in your office?"

"I believe that for the future of the 'Fleet is is necessary to foster the careers of female officers. And, as the longest-serving Vulcan officer in the integrated fleet, young Vulcan officers come to me seeking guidance."

"Yeah, but the male officers you've mentored don't turn into groupies. Tovik and Stenn learned from you and moved on. Frankly, I was surprised when D'vel accepted that promotion to the Saratoga. She made cow eyes at you constantly, or Vulcan cow eyes, and don't think I didn't notice how close you two would be standing . . . scandalous."

"You imagine things."

"Oh deny it all you want, Vulcan, I'm not blind."

"You are drawing conclusions from a statistically insignificant sample."

"Spock, the difference is like night and day. Heck, Stenn didn't even seem to like you--"

"He is a Vulcan, Jim."

"Well?"

"I do not know of anything I might have done to discourage the males and encourage the females."

"Maybe it's pheromones."

"Vulcans do not give off pheromones."

"Sure they don't."

"Vulcans do not have a vomeronasal organ."

"The way you burrow in my sweaty bedclothes in the middle of the night, I find that hard to believe."

Spock stroked Kirk's arm lovingly. "My inability to detect pheromones does not make your scent any less pleasing to me."

"I like you," Kirk said, stroking his hair. "Can I keep you?"

Ever so gently, Spock smiled.

***

"Do I look presentable?" Kirk clicked the last fastener on his uniform jacket in place.

Spock nodded. He restrained the urge to touch Jim. He knew himself, and how easily he could become aroused again.

"You never told me your theories," Kirk said.

"Insufficient data upon which to construct a theory at this time, Captain," he reported. Together they left Spock's quarters and walked briskly to the conference room which was to be converted into an impromptu dining room.

Chekov and McCoy were already there when they arrived. Kirk noticed that a bottle of wine had already been opened on one of the side tables prepared by the yeomen.

"Getting an early start, Bones?" the captain asked.

"You know I don't drink wine, Jim. Look at him." He cast a thumb back at Chekov.

"Just a seep, sir. I needed to check if everything vas in order." It was true. Very little wine was missing from the bottle.

"Well, just as long as we're not drinking on duty, gentlemen."

"Now," McCoy said, pulling Kirk aside. "What's this about you and the commissioner?"

"Me and Hecht? Nothing."

"I hear you know him from somewhere."

"We were both at the academy at the same time. Briefly."

"And that's all?" McCoy's gentle tone exuded his skepticism.

"Took me a while to place where I'd seen him before. Anyway, he seemed rather pleasant."

"You mean slick."

"Why do you say that?"

"I've heard a thing or two."

"What sort of . . . things?"

"I'll tell you if and when it's necessary."

"Well," Kirk whispered, "he has a politician's demeanor. Very smooth. He always was smooth." Kirk tried to banish the image of the smirking youth from the past which had superimposed itself over the genteel face of the present with its intelligent eyes and its closely cropped gray beard.

McCoy hopped on his toes and whispered into Kirk's ear: "Methinks you know something about him that isn't so nice."

Kirk's face was stern. "It's not an issue," he said flatly.

"It's not an issue," McCoy repeated, and rocked back on his heels. "Unless you make it an issue. You're projecting all over the place."

"Am I?" Kirk reflexively tested his mental shields, even though he knew that wasn't what McCoy had meant, and found them to be in place. He supposed his external control over his emotions, given he was merely human, was less than perfect at present. He set his shoulders. "I'll cope."

"Let's hope so. What the hell is this research for, anyways? You two have worked together for almost twenty years--against general Fleet policy, I might add. How can they expect to reproduce that kind of working relationship?"

"Long standing working relationships were more common back in the early days of the 'Fleet."

"Yes, and the command structures got all incestuous. Crews were insubordinate--some of them went nuts. That's when they started discouraging women from serving in the 'Fleet."

"Fat lotta good that did--nothing makes a spaceship full of men go stir-crazy like not seeing a female in six months. NASA had it right. And you know the Vulcans--they only let adult, bonded pairs serve on their ships."

"The Vulcans have Vulcan lifespans. Humans can't wait until they're 30 to start a career--and where would you have been?"

"I know, Bones. Starfleet, like any military command structure, wants a clear and unambiguous rulebook that they can apply to everyone. They don't like exceptions. They don't like _this_ ," he said, gesturing at the room and its occupants, "but they let it pass because of the track record of this crew. I understand their need to keep rank and discipline. I understand their need for uncompromised loyalty."

"Jim, you can't take human beings and expect them to be alone and 'married to their careers' or some such nonsense in the prime of their lives. It's just not natural! I think we're going to see a lot of Starfleet marriages and a lot of Starfleet brats in the next decade, and if command doesn't get their act together, they're going to be swimming in it."

Kirk used the tirade as his opening to pour himself a glass of water. "Maybe. I wouldn't know," he said noncommittally and took a sip.

Scott and Uhura walked in. Still no sign of the research team, but it was early.

"Now Jim, this is just a theory, but maybe someone at Starfleet got it into their thick noggins that strict military discipline isn't the cure for everything."

"What do you suggest, Doctor? We're hurtling through space at super-relativistic speeds protected by nothing more than a thin shell of steel and tritanium and EM-charged deflector fields. We could run into Klingons, Tholians, rifts in space or other hostile or dangerous unknowns at any second. This isn't a pleasure cruise, and I can't run this ship like a town meeting. If you've got a better system, I'd like to hear it."

Predictably, the Doctor backed down. "Well, the least they could do is listen to a little sound advice on human psychology and not expect the impossible."

"I always expect the impossible, Doctor. Shape up or ship out."

Just then Lydia Bonuato made her entrance, and the conversation came to an end.

"Ms. Bonuato," Kirk said, approaching her with his usual "charm", "I trust you are enjoying your stay aboard the Enterprise?"

"Of course, Captain Kirk." A warm smile crossed her face. "After this, um, dinner, I hope we'll have a chance to finally get down to business. I didn't come here to sight-see."

Kirk spread his hands. "It hardly seems . . . scientific to study the command structure of this ship without assessing the working conditions."

"We have our methods of assessing working conditions. It would be easier if we were offered access to bridge logs--"

Kirk cut in right there. "You know bridge logs aren't released under ordinary conditions."

Bonuato made an involuntary face which was something like a smile, but not. "It's strictly for research purposes, Captain."

"I don't think you understand. Bridge logs are generally only displayed under subpoena in court martial proceedings. Even Starfleet researchers don't have access to them until they've unsealed, after no less than 59 years."

"The bridge logs would be invaluable." It could not be denied that the woman stood her ground.

"The answer is no, and that's final."

Bonuato withdrew, clearly disappointed.

Kirk walked over to Spock, massaging his temple. "Bridge logs. For research. What's next?"

"The request is logical."

"Not you too?"

"I am not suggesting that we comply with the request. We would be setting an uncomfortable precedent. However, for the purposes of her research, the request is logical."

"Logical. Great. Where's Hecht?"

A few minutes later Hecht and Sirres made their appearance. Kirk noted Uhura discreetly placing calls to the other Enterprise officers who were supposed to be present. Fortunately the yeomen assigned dinner duty had already shown up and were preparing a dining table. Kirk had a vague memory of being assigned to such duty at an official function as a cadet. At the time it had all seemed very exciting--he couldn't imagine why.

***

At last they were seated at the table, Kirk sitting opposite Hecht. Hecht was dressed and groomed impeccably, in the manner of a certain breed of middle aged gay man. Bonuato was wearing a bland pantsuit, while Sirres wore a suit of Terran cut. A pity, Kirk thought, I would have counted on at least one of them showing up in a dress. "Nice suit. Where'd you get it?" Kirk commented. In his peripheral vision he caught McCoy's warning glance.

"Dior's, in San Francisco," Hecht replied, as if that meant something.

"Nice," Kirk said. "I take it a commissioner's good pay."

Hecht, nonplussed, shrugged. "Adequate."

"This is a starship," Kirk said, stabbing at his first course. "We go months between supply--sometimes months without stopping at any port or encountering any ship at all. I don't know what theory Command is pursuing this time," another stab, "but I think you'll find that what works in the civil service corps will not necessarily work so well out here."

"We're well aware of the exigencies--" Bonuato began in her defense, but Hecht cut her off.

"Hold that thought, Lydia. Captain, we are not here to promote any theory. We are only here to do research, as the 'Fleet periodically researches and reviews the command structure and working conditions aboard its ships and space station facilities."

Kirk found himself less than taken by the man's unctuous, or more bluntly, oily grace. He was, if anything, less certain of Starfleet's motives than before.

"Why this ship? Why the Enterprise? This isn't a typical crew you'll find here." He looked at the two researchers in turn. "You can't generalize."

"Lydia, if you would," Hecht said.

"Because you're the best." At her next words, Kirk had the startling impression of nerd-power being turned on him full-force. "Studies have shown that poor decision-making is connected to inefficient command structures, in which information becomes 'jammed' along the chain of command and never reaches the decision-making centers. We've studied pathological command structures to learn where we've gone wrong--and we can use yours to learn what we do right."

"Excellence does not follow necessarily from an effective command situation," Spock pointed out in his most professional tone.

Bonuato appeared to bite her tongue. Spock's logic, as always, was inescapable.

Sirres joined the conversation. "Excellence is the purview of Starfleet Recruitment and Starfleet Academy."

"Excellence is fostered," Kirk countered. "Wouldn't you say so, Mr. Spock?"

"Then you agree with our basic assertion," Bonuato insisted.

"I think--What I think," Kirk said, taking a drink, "is that if Starfleet had decided to do this research fifteen years ago on the first five-year mission it would have been a lot more useful.

"Look at us." He nodded at Scott, and Uhura. "We're a bunch of dusty old spacers. We're set in our ways, we know each other too well, and we're given to eccentricities." Kirk set his glass down.

"Why the hell is everyone looking at me?" McCoy exclaimed.

"Shush, you know better than to ask that question," said Uhura. "Isn't that right, Scotty?" she said, raising her glass at him.

"Aye," Scott agreed, with the look of incipient laughter.

"It's not so bad, Leonard," Chekov said, clapping McCoy on the back. "Like they say in Russia, a salty space dog's entitled to a few tricks." A sudden coughing and choking fit broke out among most of the older officers present.

"Pavel, take your hand off my shoulder," McCoy groused. "You may be up and grown and a full Commander, but you've got a thing or two to learn about ingratiating yourself to a man." He drilled Kirk with an evil look. "You put them up to this, didn't you?"

"Denial. Paranoia," Spock catalogued.

"Why, you shut yer Vulcan mouth, you--" McCoy jerked his eyes towards Sirres, suddenly remembering. He pointed a finger in the air. "Not one of you . . ." he said menacingly. "And believe me, I know. 'Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.'"

"Well said, McCoy," Kirk said, eager not to treat the guests to more of their family quarreling, however good-natured they all knew it to be. "Commissioner, Mr. Sirres, Ms. Bonuato, I don't know what you could learn from this ship which would be applicable all over the 'Fleet."

"Gentlebeings," Spock said, using the awkward English translation of the Vulcan term, "this ship operates on the absolute loyalty of this crew to their captain. If you do not understand how that loyalty was earned, you will learn nothing of value."

"To rely so completely on one man is not logical," said Sirres.

"We don't rely on one man, there's a chain of command," Kirk said curtly.

"With all due respect to your background, Mr. Sirres," said McCoy, "human beings aren't like Vulcans. They won't just follow an order because it's the logical thing to do."

***

After dinner the party clustered around in two and three person clumps, talking and drinking. McCoy made a stink about the alcohol being sub-par and insisted Kirk come with him to have a chat with Petty Officer Kerry. No sooner had they entered the adjacent room when Kirk whirled around.

"You don't need me to have a chat with the staff. What's up?"

"Them." McCoy pointed at the other room. "You know why they're here? Because you're a legend, and you'd better get used to it."

"If I'm a legend, why don't they let me run this ship in peace? Why send in a team to question all my assignments?"

"That's just it, Jim. They're not here to question you, or harass you, or pry into your personal life. They're here to find out how a hero runs a starship. They're here to get it from the horse's mouth."

Kirk rubbed his jaw. "That would explain why they sent serious researchers, instead of attachés from the Admiralty or Council offices. What about Hecht?"

"Easy. Those bright-eyed, bushy-tailed scientists do all the work, and he stands around and takes all the credit. When he makes his recommendations to Starfleet command, he'll make sure his name is bandied around with yours."

"Let me get this straight, Bones--you're saying he's here to steal some of my glory?"

"We'd better head back, Jim, before we're gone too long."

"Bones, that's incredible! I was imagining the worst. . . ."

***

Later that evening, Kirk found himself alone with Hecht in his quarters.

The commissioner, his two aides, and most of the officers had stood around talking for a while after dinner. Kirk had decided that he'd had it with the uncertainty over whether Theodore Hecht was really "Mack the Knife" and whether "Mackie" recognized him or not, so he asked the commissioner if he remembered him from the academy. Hecht searched his face for a moment and shook his head slowly. Kirk checked the dates. "I was there from 2250--summer session, actually, until 2253. I was assigned to a cruise and then they shipped me off the Starbase 2 in the Eridani system for four months when I made ensign." Kirk smiled, proving he could chit-chat like the best of them. "The funny thing about that was I met more Andorians while I was stationed there than Vulcans."

"I was at the Academy from, let's see, fall of '48 until spring of '52," Hecht said, finally volunteering information. "Did we ever meet?"

"We were . . . passing through some of the same circles, as I recall. I knew who you were."

Hecht peered at him again. "I don't suppose you look a lot now like you did then."

"No . . . I don't think any of us do. Except maybe Bones. He's always looked like that." Kirk grinned wickedly, but unfortunately the Doctor had been out of earshot.

"I see," Hecht said politely. "Well, it feels strange that I don't remember you. You wouldn't happen to have any old class photos, would you?"

"Actually, I do have some old photographs," Kirk admitted, seeing an opportunity.

A few minutes later the gathering broke up and Kirk was leading Hecht to his quarters.

Kirk and Spock had rather different tastes in decor, not to mention temperature and gravity, so, after a brief experiment with full cohabitation, they had settled on a system of maintaining separate quarters.

Kirk had never used the designated captain's quarters on the original Enterprise; prior to refit they had been converted into a deck lounge, but that sadly passed away in the Great Re-haul of '72. When he took command of the Enterprise-A, Kirk gave the captain's quarters to Spock. They got a big bed, and Kirk set up the attached captain's office for its intended administrative use. Otherwise, Spock was allowed to do his worst. Kirk then took one of the smaller junior officers' quarters for himself, little more than a closet, really, and used it as a crash pad, book stash, and storage closet for the old stuff he liked to collect. As McCoy had remarked, it looked a lot like Kirk's apartment on Earth, only more cramped. Kirk didn't care. To him it was a refuge when Spock's atrocious Vulcan taste in interior decorating got to be too much.

As stated before, it was full of Kirk's junk, including a box of old tape backups. Kirk rummaged through the deck until he found one labeled "Ex Astris", and after plugging in his old tape-reader to the terminal port, opened a very, very old image of himself on the comm screen.

"That's actually me after the end of freshman year. I spent a week somewhere sunny--can't remember if it was Nevada or Utah."

Hecht shook his head again. "It's not jogging my memory, I'm afraid."

"Here's the freshman class photo from the end of that year." Kirk zoomed in and moved around the holo image, stopping on faces he was sure they'd both recognize.

"Here's Brian Carnehy. He got caught with a keg of beer at one AM on the Administration steps."

"Oh, that's right . . . I heard about that. He played the bugle, didn't he? No--the cornet."

"Yes. So did I, actually. I didn't make the cut for the band until the sophomore year."

"Really? You seem like the type who'd go in for football instead."

"Didn't play sports. No time. This guy, though, he ended up captain of the football team. What's-his-name."

"Scott."

"Oh, that's right. These are some friends of mine . . . Jian Pei; Mark Kazajian; he died in service two years after graduating. And here's Areel Shaw. She ended up in the JAG. I think I heard she retired and ran for Federation DA. And this is Aidann. Aidann Pierce, I think? He was dating that friend of yours?"

"What friend?" A line of tension was drawn upwards from the bridge of Hecht's nose.

"Your best friend, Stark something. No, not Stark . . . Karston. That's it, 'Carrie'."

"Yes, Karston and Aidann were involved. . . . That was a long time ago."

Kirk pressed on. "And you went by 'Mackie'."

Anger etched like acid into the older man's features. "I didn't go by Mackie. That was a nickname someone gave me."

"And with good reason, wasn't it? After that picture was taken, you and Karston ruined Aidann's life."

"James," Hecht said tightly, but with the impatient air of one with superior knowledge, "Aidann had problems."

"I'll say," Kirk accused, prepared to have it out. "There were woman too, weren't there? Did you and Karston trade them around like liquor bottles too?"

"Look, I don't know what your problem is, but that was a long time ago. I haven't thought about that time in years. I know I did some things back then that I'm not proud of, but we all do."

"Really?" Kirk demanded, feeling as though he were on shifting ground. Sure, he'd hurt people when he was young and stupid, but nothing like that. "Why were you dating women anyway?"

"I was confused. You may not know this, but I was confused about my gender as well. I tried dating women. I was also under a lot of pressure from my family. I thought if I found the right girl that they wouldn't make good on their threat to send me to reparation therapy."

"I'm sorry," Kirk said, moved to pity despite himself. Like any gay man he could understand the horror of being threatened with a stay in one of those peacetime torture camps where a mish-mash of behavior-modification techniques were applied in a futile attempt to make a gay man straight. "I didn't know," Kirk said softly. He felt as if a spell had been broken. For a moment, he had returned to the memories, mindset, and understanding of his sixteen-year-old self, but now he could look at the situation as an adult. He still couldn't bring himself to excuse Hecht's actions as a callow youth, but at least now he could let it go. "Maybe," Kirk said, "it's best to let bygones be bygones."

"Did you know Aidann well, James?"

"No, not like that, I was just angry at what you and Karston did to him. And it's Jim, not James. It's always been Jim. Only two people in the world call me James--my uncle Marvin and Spock's father, and he only calls me that on special occasions."

"I see. My apologies."

"That's what he'd say, too. I'm sorry I dredged all this up, it's just--from the moment I saw you, I had to know."

"That's understandable. Jim," Hecht said, considering the name. "There was a Jim Nguyen."

Something jogged Kirk's memory, and he said, "Some of the guys used to call me JT."

"Oh, JT. There was a JT. It must have been you. I must confess I don't remember anything about you." Hecht looked around the room and fixed his glance on a painting behind Kirk's head. "I saw that when I came in. Anyone in particular?"

Kirk turned and saw he as looking at his oil painting of David and Jonathan; two young men with figures like the Apollo Belvedere in vaguely 'Hebraic' neo-classical costume. They were shown reclining, inclined toward each other in a stock pastoral setting.

"It's an Adamson. He's a modern painter who specializes in antique painting styles. 'David and Jonathan'."

"Any special significance?"

Kirk smiled ruefully and gave him part of an answer. "In a way--a personal significance. You see, I stole Spock from Vulcan--figuratively speaking, of course, since he joined Starfleet of his own volition years before we even met--and Sarek is like Saul, forced to accept me in his court." Kirk turned from the painting to Hecht. "Our story ended a little better, I think. Sarek never sicced an army on me, and he finally told Spock that he approved of his joining Starfleet. Well, actually, he said--this was about two years ago, and I was there--that 'perhaps my decision to oppose your joining Starfleet was in error.' And he told Spock he approved of the company he was keeping."

"You're very fortunate."

"I take it your family . . ."

"My father never accepted it, to his dying day. It was almost a relief when he died and he couldn't threaten me and my partner any more."

"Have you been together a long time?"

"Hiawatha and I have been together for . . . thirteen years. I think it's a long time."

"Hiawatha? That's a mouthful."

"It gets worse. His given name was Hiawatha Longfellow." Hecht smiled urbanely at this and Kirk, always quick on the uptake, agreed, "That's bad."

"He changed his surname to Chance. That was his mother's maiden name."

"How did his family handle it?"

"Oh, they hated my family, but they liked me. His parents are very . . . eccentric. Very strange. Every morning they wake up at six and sing some nonsense out of Lord of the Rings about 'Tom Bombadil'."

"Oh," Kirk chuckled, aware of the reference. "Does the wife have golden hair?"

"No, but he does call her Goldberry."

"Right out of 'The Fellowship'. You know it?"

"I've learned," Hecht said with a long-suffering air.

"I guess I've been lucky. Sarek and Amanda have always welcomed me, and my mother, she's the best. I think my father would have been disappointed. When we were boys he was always on my brother's case to be more like me, because Sam was never interested in Starfleet. I think, if he'd lived to see it, Dad would have been on my case to be more like Sam. He married, and had three boys . . ." Kirk drifted into the shades of memory. "The whole family died in the massacre on Deneva, except for my nephew Peter."

"Ironic, isn't it? They always tell us God wants to punish our kind."

"I don't believe in God."

"Surely . . ."

"I don't believe in some magical sky-man, laying down judgment from above."

"Well, no reasonable adult believes in the Sunday School God, but don't you believe in the collective consciousness? The soul connection to the universe? Surely, you of all people--"

"Why? Because I brought Spock back from the dead? I don't understand that. I look back and think I must have been crazy. But I did what I had to do. If I have faith in anything, it's in the ability of human beings to master the challenges put before us--along with a certain measure of luck. I don't believe that just because there exist forces in this universe more powerful than we are, it means they are worthy of worship. There are beings so powerful they could swat us like flies without knowing or caring what they had done. We don't gain anything by worshiping mysteries or trembling in awe. I'm here to make the unknown known. That's the reason . . . this ship was built."

"I think we're misunderstanding each other. What about your spiritual side? We as a people have a deep connection with the spiritual."

"Spiritual is Spock's department. He thinks I had some sort of low-level telepathy. I think he just doesn't appreciate the power of human intuition. From a Vulcan's point of view, he's the skeptic."

"I think the Vulcans have a lot to teach us."

"Hmm." Perhaps that was why the commissioner had a Vulcan on his staff. "You knew . . . about Spock and me . . . didn't you?"

Hecht shook his head slightly. "No, not really. Yes, I'd heard things, but nothing I could take seriously."

"That's odd. Everyone in Command knows. Actually, when I was told about this study, I thought Command was fussing about having a married couple in command."

"If that were true, they never told me anything about that. You'd think they'd tell me if that were the case."

"Yes, I agree." Kirk decided, at last, to trust this man fractionally. "I like to think of the Enterprise like a family. Spock and I are the heads of the household, the senior officers are like siblings, and the crew is like the children. It's my responsibility to guard after the well-being of every single one of them. As long as we keep harmony among the command crew, this ship runs pretty well."

"And you're the captain."

"I'm the captain."

"Is it difficult to work with your spouse?"

"Not at all. We get along beautifully. I'm still surprised that everyone doesn't know, at least since . . . everything that's happened."

"Starfleet, as you must know, promotes a certain image of you."

"Yes, I know. A smiling picture from twenty years ago and a very sanitized biography. When I was younger, I was very discreet about my sexuality. I think some of the admirals who promoted me to captain knew I was bisexual, but they knew it wasn't going to be a problem. When I met Spock, and we became friends, we certainly never made a secret of that, and as a Vulcan and a human there was always a certain political tinge to our relationship. But when our relationship became closer, more intense, we kept that a secret because we did not want an enemy to think they had a hold over us in a combat situation."

"Enemies like the Starfleet hierarchy?"

Kirk smiled. "Actually, they learned that I had acquired a certain . . . loyalty to Vulcan, and its secrets, rather early on. Got me into some trouble. May have led to my being grounded at the end of the first five year mission."

"Discrimination?"

"No, failure to follow an order. I can't prove it, but it seems likely. It's . . . a long story." Kirk smiled apologetically. "Now that my career is coming to an end, I'm starting to wonder about my legacy. Is it fair to all those young people coming up to wipe all traces of gayness out of the history books? I can remember when I was young the only gay generals I knew about were apocryphal accounts from the distant past. I was shocked, when I joined Starfleet, to find out that homosexuality was rampant. And is it fair to let everyone think that Spock and I are 'just good friends'? To make him out to be some sort of . . . sidekick? I know he doesn't care about that, but I do. He means everything to me. Nobody talks about Robert April's wife that way. I suppose we succeeded too well. Not even a gay man like yourself thinks we're a couple." Kirk was pacing, and the room was almost too cramped for it.

"I'd like to say that we kept our private life and our work separate. But that's not really true, is it? We were in combat together--all of us, from the previous mission. I can't tell you enough how that changes things. In some ways that makes us more loyal to each other than to Starfleet, and I know how Command hates that. But at the same time, those," and he paused to emphasize, "human connections make us better officers. And that trust and inter-reliance make this a better-run ship. I think that is in danger of being lost, Commissioner." Kirk used the title on purpose. "Spock and I aren't just two people who work together and 'happen' to be married. We are . . . like two halves of a whole. We complete each other. We click. Do you see what I'm getting at?"

"I see your point about personal loyalties. While on the one hand we can't expect this sort of arrangement to work for everyone, perhaps it points to a need for Starfleet to be more flexible in its personnel arrangements."

Kirk nodded at the too-smooth words despite his skepticism.

"Well, it's getting late," Hecht remarked, "and I'd better go, but I do thank you for giving me a glimpse of the man behind the myth." Hecht offered his hand.

A little shocked at the gesture after his heated words earlier, Kirk returned the handshake. "I suppose I'll see your researchers poking about all over the ship starting tomorrow?"

"You can bet on it. Goodnight, Jim."

"Goodnight."

Kirk sighed and absentmindedly wiped his brow, and prepared for bed.

He pulled on a plain white nightshirt and drew up the covers, but felt restless. He called Spock.

His friend arrived with two PADDs under his arm.

"Still working?" Kirk asked as Spock set them on the dresser.

"Preparations for the stellar research which commences in two days."

"Life goes on."

"Indeed."

"Don't you ever say 'yes' to anything?"

"I say 'yes' to you often," Spock said, kneeling beside Kirk's bed.

"Mm, not like that, you tease. I guess we won't need all those secret signals we've devised."

"I take it your talk with the Commissioner went well?"

Kirk rested with his hands beneath his head. "I was wrong about their reasons for coming here. Things aren't always what they seem."

"How so?" Spock asked, tilting his head.

"Hecht. I can't forgive him. But I understand, now. I guess . . . I pity him. His younger self. My mother was right. She told me that people who act out have their own problems."

"Does this give you any peace of mind?"

"I think so. Yes. I don't hate him anymore."

"Then it seems Surak was right--strong emotions may be dispelled by understanding."

"Oh, so it's good you still don't 'get' me, or I'd be out on the street," Kirk joked.

"Surak was speaking of vain anger or resentment, not emotions driven by primal needs--water, nourishment, safety, bonding. Such needs are met through logical social structures."

"So we're logical?"

"Ind--Yes, Jim."

Kirk smiled happily and rolled closer to Spock. "What's going to happen when we leave here? What's going to be our legacy? Do you ever think about that?"

"What's troubling you, Jim?"

"That Theodore Hecht--he didn't even know we were lovers--and he's gay! Apparently my name has been linked to enough women that no one ever imagines the possibility."

"But haven't you benefited from that?"

Kirk blazed with intensity. "I've put myself on the line for you. I've lived most of my adult life in a same-sex relationship. Yes, I think it was helpful that I wasn't completely gay, but haven't I earned at least something? When you went to Gol, I couldn't figure out if I just missed you or if women truly didn't satisfy me anymore."

"During which time you were quite publicly married to a woman."

"I . . ." Arguing with Spock was a bitch. "Look, don't you remember how it was back then? Maybe not--you never served on an all-male ship. I did. It was insane. You wouldn't believe what went on in off-duty hours. I let it be known that I was bisexual, but if they even thought you were gay--it was obscene."

"I did find it . . . illogical that human males were so concerned about concealing their homosexual urges from their peers, even when they were engaged in frequent homosexual behavior. On Vulcan it was not considered strange for a male to mate with other males when a female was not available to him. I was at pains to understand it."

"Nobody wants to look like 'the woman'. That's why they harassed the gay crewmen, demanded blowjobs, threatened them, that kind of thing. For some reason I was allowed to suck dick and get away with it because everyone knew I liked women. And I never showed any weakness. I had to beat up a few guys on shore leave to get there. All the crewmen knew where they stood with me. A lot of the gay ones weren't so lucky."

"So you admit that your status as a bisexual conferred a certain privilege. Why is there a problem now?"

"The problem is, has anything really changed? If the official story is that everyone on the top is straight, what message does that send down the ranks? And who am I to take this gift I've been given, this glory and reputation, and hide away somewhere just because being a little different from everyone else isn't considered polite?"

Kirk sighed and flopped back on his pillow. "Do you see that book over there, Spock? The white binding, right next to the Conrad."

"'They Walk in Shadow'," Spock read off the spine, removing it from the shelf.

"It's very rare," Kirk said in a hushed tone, the bibliophile rising in his blood. "It should really be in a museum instead of here."

"What is it?"

"It's a study of homosexuals. A sympathetic study, for the time. I know all about the early history of sex research, Psychopathia Sexualis and all that. This is mid-twentieth-century. 'They walk in shadow.' The name says it all, doesn't it? A shadow people, who live secret lives. Their daylight persona is a mask waiting to be grabbed and snatched away by their lurking night-time lives, their sojourns in a secret 'gay' world, always under the threat of exposure and arrest."

"History is cyclic, Spock. But as long as we have a good position on this juggernaut, don't we have a duty to see that it doesn't crush those who come after us?"

Spock closed the book and put it aside. "What do you intend to do?"

"I don't know yet." He was thinking--a book. A little smile for Spock. "I'll think of something."

Spock stroked his cheek. "I have been content to serve by your side as a brother-in-arms. Even had we never been mated, I would choose no differently."

"Really? That seems rather unfair--you do all the giving, I do all the taking."

"On the contrary, it has been an honor to serve with you." Spock let his hand drop to his knees. "I know you will succeed in any endeavor you choose to undertake, though if you believe that you can teach your own kind to eschew their own illogic, then you are a better man than I."

Kirk asked, wondering, "Spock? You're not giving up?"

"Never," Spock affirmed in a sonorous tone. "I must return to my preparations for our mission." A scientist to the last, Kirk thought approvingly. A scientist devotes herself to the pursuit of knowledge with faith that society will not collapse utterly around her, with faith that her endeavors are not hopeless.

"Stay with me until I fall asleep?" Kirk asked hopefully.

"Yes, Jim," Spock answered without hesitation and turned off the lights. With unbounded tenderness he watched over his mate as he settled into sleep.

***

"Captain on the bridge!"

Kirk stepped down to the chair Spock had so recently vacated and nodded at the bridgeful of junior officers standing at attention. Gamma shifts were never uneventful. "As you were," he said, and saw Bonuato and Sirres hastily taking notes while the others returned to stations. Bonuato, he had learned, scrawled into her pad in a shorthand she had taught the computer to read, while Sirres tapped at a Vulcan syllabary in the corner of his pad display. He used an obscure Vulcan dialect with a reduced phoneme set to make note-taking faster.

Kirk looked at Spock pointedly. "Another week of this?"

"Eight point two days before we reach Starbase 157, according to schedule." He returned to his seat at the science console with typical grace.

"Was your dinner satisfactory?" he asked the captain.

Kirk leaned towards the science station. "Yes, Spock. I take it things up here have been running smoothly."

"Affirmative."

"Have they been staying out of trouble?" He jerked his head at the researchers, who had spent the last week engaged in various observations all over the ship.

"I have found them to be remarkably well-behaved."

"For the real experience, they ought to be up here when Bones is here."

"Indeed. The Doctor does provide a lively presence on the bridge."

"Not that you'd say that to his face."

Spock looked taken aback. "I certainly would."

"And a number of other things, too, I'd bet."

"That would depend on him," Spock said primly. "Where is the Doctor? He typically follows you here after meals."

"He wasn't at dinner. I hear he's patching up injuries from a game on the Rec Deck. Something called 'Parrises Squares'. Have you heard of it?"

"No."

"Neither have I. I heard at dinner it's not the first time there have been injuries, too."

"I shall look into it."

"Good." Kirk adjusted his seat in the chair and settled in to study the viewscreen ahead.

The lift doors swished behind him and admitted Spock's newest protogée, Chitra Subramanian. She looked at Kirk with too-wise eyes on her way to the science console. Something about her expression rankled. _Old age and guile beat youth and inexperience every time_ , Kirk reminded himself.

Spock prepared the adjacent board for her, ready for another instructional session. He looked almost apologetically at Kirk. Hours of hot sex the night before had done nothing to quell his bondmate's anxieties.

Kirk, who had been considering several approaches, simply smiled serenely. _Old age, guile, and knowing what a Vulcan wants_ , Kirk thought. _She doesn't stand a chance._ When her cheeky eyes found their way back to him in between instructions, he took great pleasure in remembering that Spock had publicly admonished her not three weeks ago, telling her not to be fresh.

Sure, Kirk knew he was being petty. He thought about all the very good reasons Spock preferred him over anyone else. But this was not an appropriate topic to be considering at the conn, so Kirk got up and toured the bridge, overseeing the efforts of his ensigns and junior lieutenants, before returning to his chair and the viewscreen.

Two hours later cheeky Chitra and the researchers left. Kirk leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and felt the bond sing.

***

Five months later, Kirk received a notice of proposed changes to Starfleet regulations, based on the results of the study so recently carried out on the Enterprise. Kirk noted that Hecht had indeed done his best to link their names.


End file.
